To: Whoever You May Be
From: Whoever I May Be
Your message had two separate paragraphs.
Re the first: The last line states, " Reading through your responses to Tom, it appears you're just a contrary knob."
1. I am not sure what a 'contrary knob' means. But it doesn't sound congratulatory. And I am not sure if it delights me.
2. Isn't it true that Alexa much more effectively stated what I blurted out, that, Tom, when your thoughts are still incubating, keep 'em in the womb. The hutzpah to broadcast them bespeaks a sort of infantile egomania?
3. I do not even qualify as a dilettante. Putting me in a paragraph with Galt is idiotic. The great game of Galt (I say game because I can't believe that such razor-edged articulation could honestly believe the irrational premises it advocated, like taking the weak end of a debate, Man is of a Spiritual Essence, and jabbering, beautifully, for it.) was Varsity. As Skipper recalled, my intent is to not be heard, as the lovely surf against the shore of an unpeopled beach. This is not even Junior Varsity. I am, at best, at midlevel of the food chain.
4. I find, to my regret, that some people "feel" deeply, jpmac in her undisciplined piece, and some "broadcast" insensitively, Tom in his cowardly encounter with death. It was a genuine attempt of mine to suggest to the former that she maintain her vitality, her spirit, and simply get her metaphors together. To the latter, to ruminate a bit before letting the world know that his fly is open.
Re the second: From my earliest days I never dreaded death. It was a given, part of the equation. From what I have read, your interpretation is closer to the shivering Tom than to the adept Alexa.
I had a mother-in-law who, once at a cocktail party, threw herself back in a chair and wailed, "I DON'T WANT TO DIE! I DON'T WANT TO DIE!" And I almost shit in shame - or ran off to the den where the chhildren were playing.
The affection I have for Skipper lies in his lines of old that fully understand my position on this abysmal thread. Glory to the yuppies here and there. This is the Depository. gsm |
